


You're Welcome.

by skymirchant



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Leather gloves, Light BDSM, Orgasm Control, Restraints, ive never made this kind of fic please be nice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2019-03-31 14:25:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13977012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skymirchant/pseuds/skymirchant
Summary: Playing mgo too much. Admiring Ocelot too much.I hate using second person/first person so I kept the tense as vague as possible.Could be you, could be Boss. Use your imagination.





	You're Welcome.

Hands clasping sheets, soft gasps and murmurs, hushed tones of heated exchanges. Sweat accumulated, but wandering hands cared not to preserve the beads  
Hot prints burned like fires, igniting the lust for more   
The shuffling of fabric mute in wake of pants and groans.   
He could feel it building. Pooling. Welling up inside. His murmurs and sounds becoming more eager, more desperate.   
Fuck, he wanted it.  
_Needed it._  
His messy hair, shaggy but somehow neat, ashen strands stuck with the sweat on his forehead. Low voiced, out of breath. _Hot._   
Some might venture to say whiney.   
It would seem obvious- such a wirey, thin man, behaving this way. It didn’t take a lot to keep him down. Not that he put up too much of a fight. He wouldn’t. He never did. His only struggle was to keep his hips from jutting into the hot palms that teased him so.  
His hands above his head, tied with the red scarf, his… _alluring_ red gloves still on.   
Ignoring those hip bones, the way his skin dipped, how heated- how flushed… that would be no easy feat.   
That body wasn’t meant for wrestling. Gun-slinging, certainly, but steady hands are different than sturdy arms. As nice as it is to admire his slender build, the way his arms held above his head exposed his chest and navel, stretching him out- the desperate whimpers called another issue to mind.   
  
Perhaps it was unfair to tease for so long.   
His cock was dripping and desperate, pulsing, a physical manifestation of need.   
He already had dark marks around his collar. He could use another.   
  
His breath hitched to the feeling of hot lips. A low groan rumbled from his throat.  
__  
“Say it.”   
A small murmur sounded, but, relieving the pressure made him almost blurt out.   
  
“Please,” was the signal to tighten grip.   
  
His hips ride up, bucking, pushing against the friction. He made a sultry sound akin nearly to a cry.   
  
Once he calmed, finished rolling his hips, panting, face cooling but red- he spoke.  
  
“I… should thank you.   
_You’re pretty good_.” 


End file.
